


Liberté

by damagectrl



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, French Revolution, French Revolution au, Friendship, Historical, Historical AU, One Shot, Rescue, Revolt, Romance, no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 03:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15501249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damagectrl/pseuds/damagectrl
Summary: After the Reign of Terror and just before Napoleon takes power, France is in chaos and Adrien Agreste is certain he is bound for the guillotine despite championing the rights of the people.  As he is tossed in a wagon, blindfolded and chained, his thoughts go back to a night in June of 1789.On the cusp of the French Revolution, attending his childhood friend’s celebration wasn’t his ideal way to spend that night, especially when the extravagance and wealth of the family was on full display and clashing with his revolutionist sympathies, but as the son of wealthy merchant and the daughter of a noblesse d’épée family, Adrien attended anyway.He has a chance meeting with a masked baker’s daughter trying to free her friends and it is a moment, he’ll never forget.





	Liberté

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier this month, I thought “I should write something for Bastille Day”, like a historical AU. I love me some AUs. However, it was a passing thought and I was just starting to work on Kairos; I couldn’t justify working on something new. Then, last week, I thought “hey, I bet I can write a one-shot before I go to bed tonight” while in traffic. It was 80% done by 11PM and then I got tired and went to bed because I’m old and had stuff to do in the morning and a Night Market to attend. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this grossly historically inaccurate one-shot I wrote one evening and posted today because July is almost over. Happy month that Bastille Day is in and have a good week! ♥

 

_August 1795_

 

“In you go!”

They didn’t give him much warning as he was shoved into the back of wagon, his legs hitting the edge of the wagon bed before he fell forward.  He held in a low grunt as a sharp pain shot through his legs. At the very least, he managed to catch himself on his arms before his head hit the floor.  

The back of the wagon was pushed closed on his feet and he heard the distinct sound of a metal padlock keeping it so.  He didn’t think he’d need a blindfold when it was still dark, but they put it on him when he was first arrested.

“Are you all right?” A man was speaking to him and Adrien pulled his knees to his chest and tried to crawl to the side of the wagon.  His legs were chained together and heavy cuffs weighted down his bruised legs. The cuffs that kept his wrists together made it difficult to even eat and dug into his skin.  

He could smell the rancid stench of sweat and blood and urine on his worn, tattered clothes, unwashed for days...?  Weeks? His once fine, Italian made shoes could barely be called leather after wearing them for so long. He was starving.  He was thirsty.

He knew he was going to die.

No, he was not all right.

“Let me help you sit up.”  Strong hands grasped his upper arm and rolled him into a seated position.  “Lean back.” He was against the side of the wagon. The man who helped him released his arm and Adrien heard and felt the thuds against the side of the wagon.  

It must’ve been the signal to move, as the wagon jerked forward.  

Normally, prisoners were taken to be executed during the day light hours, when the crowds had gathered.  After so many months of terror fueled by the threat of death at the slightest infraction, one would think the people had their fill.  The days proved otherwise as cellmate after cellmate was dragged out of their lightless little prison to be killed at some courtyard or plaza filled with spectators.

He was no exception, though he had sided with the people.  

“The Jacobians put you in prison?” The man was speaking to him and Adrien turned his head towards where the voice was coming from.  He wondered how many others were in the wagon with him.

“They felt my essays were too forgiving to the _noblesse_.  I just don’t feel more lives needed to be taken,” Adrien said.  His voice was a rough and it seemed the man beside him noticed. A few moments later, he felt a cup against his lips.

“Have a drink.  How long has it been since you last drank?”  

As the liquid coursed down his throat, Adrien almost couldn’t remember.  He’d been dipping his meager allowance of old bread into tasteless, thick soup for nourishment.  He relished the change and nearly choked as the water spilled from his mouth and dribbled down his chin.  

The man beside him laughed and pulled the cup away.  “There's no need to rush. There is plenty of water here.”

Yes, but how long would he have access to it?  As soon as they arrived to wherever his execution location was, that would be it.  

He’d never have water again.  Not a drop of wine. Not a bite of bread.  

His stomach grumbled and his brought his cuffed hands down to his stomach.  He was so thin now. Just years earlier, he was fit and strong; able to fight and, to his amusement, often told he was too handsome to do so.  

But some time in the prison with little food and drink, lack of movement and sunlight wore down a man’s body faster than he thought.  He could only imagine what horrors his reflection would reveal. Not that he’d get a chance to see it before he was beheaded by Madame Guillotine.

“We don’t have much food with us, but we have bread.  Would you like bread?”

For the life of him, he couldn’t help but feel his heart rate quicken.  “Please....” He lifted his hands and half expected to be laughed at and taunted for hoping to eat.  Instead, the end piece of a baguette was placed in his dirty hands.

He didn’t care.  He brought it to his face and inhaled the scent.  Bread had a smell. Most people didn’t notice, but he did.  It smelled soft and warm. It smelled comforting and nourishing.  

It smelled like _her_.

“My friend....”  The man’s voice was softer, concerned.  “Are you all right?”

Beneath the stained, rough blindfold, Adrien closed his eyes as he felt hot tears.  His shaking hands brought the bread to his mouth and he took a bite. It was stale and hard and _delicious_.  

“I always suspected that I would give my life to try to change my country,” Adrien said.  “To die for my beliefs...to make France better for everyone, not just the rich or the noble or the clergy.  I don’t regret what I’ve done.”

“There were many men like you in the beginning.  Men we are dire need of now, who loved France more than anything.”

“No, not France.” Adrien said.  He could still remember that night he met her: her dark hair, her blue eyes set aglow by candle light, and her pink lips reminiscent of rose petals.  

There was a hint of amusement in the man’s voice.  “A woman.”

“ _Liberté_.”

 

* * *

 

_July 1789_

 

His carriage rode along a well worn, packed dirt road and across from him, his mother and father were dressed in new finery sourced from his father’s business connections.  Of the three, only his beautiful mother was born noble, from an old _noblesse d’épée_ family in the countryside.  She was the only daughter of a Duke and was of distant relation to Vicomte Bourgeois’ wife.  

Though distant, they were close.  The Viscountess Aubrey adored Emelie Agreste, as everyone did.  Adrien’s beloved mother was kind and beautiful. The Viscountess, however, didn’t approve of his father, Gabriel.

Landless and without title or any noble heritage, Gabriel was simply wealthy.  He was merchant and, landless-ness aside, as wealthy, if not more so, than any noble they would encounter at the Viscountess’ daughter’s birthday that night.  Because of this, Adrien had the distinct feeling the Vicomte wanted him to marry into the Bourgeois family by marrying his daughter, Chloe.

They were childhood friends and he always thought her a somewhat pleasant girl, but he wasn’t interested in marrying for a title.  He’d have to marry into the Bourgeois and while he was raised in opulence, he didn’t necessarily care for it.

His instructors told him he was reading too much of those ‘Enlightenment’ propaganda, but Adrien wasn’t blind.  He only need look out his window to see the difference in lifestyle between him and the rest of the commoners who weren’t as fortunate.  Luck bore him wealth. That was all.

People were starving.  They barely had clothes.  They barely had _food_.  They were taxed heavily and he didn’t understand why those who had so much less were taxed so much when the classes with so much were taxed little to none.  A society couldn’t function like that forever and it didn’t surprise him that there were seeds of revolution growing in Paris. Looking upon the palatial home of the Bourgeois family, he could see why there was such resentment.

“Darling.”  His mother’s voice coaxed him from his thoughts and he looked towards her.  She wore a kind smile as she reached over. “I know you’ve heard rumors that the Vicomte wishes you to marry Chloe, but I assure you, your father and I would never force you into such a thing.”

“You are free to marry who you wish.”  His father’s voice was strict as always.  It was a mystery how someone as gentle as his mother married such a stoic, stern man like his father.  Still, even in the carriage, her hand was in his. “That is, within reason.”

Adrien cringed inwardly.  ‘Within reason’ could mean anything to Gabriel Agreste.  Still, Adrien appreciated his mother’s reassurance.

“I understand.  Chloe is a good friend,” he said.  “I am honored that the Viscountess invited us.”  Even if the Bourgeois palace was so gilded, it was almost an affront to God.  

Their carriage rolled through the front, iron gates of a sprawling palace on the outskirts of the city.  It was a towering stone symbol of the Bourgeois family’s status and wealth; a modern day castle and beacon of power.

Adrien squinted in the dimming sunlight.  There were men in matching black masks holding lanterns on the walkway leading up to the main entrance of the massive house.  As each carriage reached them, a uniformed servant opened the door and the guests were escorted in. Servants followed behind them holding lacquered boxes containing the masks they were supposed to wear to the themed event.  

In her last letter, Chloe had seen paintings of Venice’s carnival and wanted her next party to be as such.  She even sent Adrien the very mask he was to wear to try to ensure him into coming.

There was a heavy, sweet scent in the air as they entered.  Chloe had a sweet tooth and he was sure there were countless pastries and desserts waiting within.  Half the city couldn’t even afford bread and this house reeked of expensive pastries.

“Emelie!” A tall, slender woman greeted his mother and he turned, bowing his head to the Viscountess.  “Oh, and good! Adrien, you’ve come! Chloe was so pleased to hear you’d join us tonight.”

“Of course, Viscountess, I could not miss my friend’s birthday celebration.”  He smiled as he always did and from the corner of his eye, he could see ladies fanning themselves.  It was an odd reaction to a man of nineteen, but none-the-less, he gave them a small, acknowledging nod.  

Gabriel lifted his hand in silence and a servant rushed forward and opened a large box in his arm.  Adrien reached for his black eye mask with swirls of gold leaf that matched his clothes while his father gingerly picked up his mother’s white mask and placed it on her face.  

“Is it too heavy, dearest?” he asked.

“No, my love, it’s beautiful.”  His father wore a matching mask embellished by feathers a bit smaller than the peacock ones on his mother’s.  

They were ushered into the ballroom and were immediately accosted by various men and women to greet them.  His father’s low birth be damned, Gabriel was surrounded by men inquiring about business prospects and colonial trade.   Gabriel’s seriousness and success seemed to appeal to them.

Adrien remained at his mother’s side, escorting her around while his father was preoccupied.  It didn’t take long for Chloe to find him in the familiar black mask.

“Adrien!” She seemed to break protocol in her rush to greet him, walking faster than normal and bobbing up and down instead of gliding smooth across the floor.  Her dress was bright yellow with a wide skirt and white lace at her cuffs and bodice. A gold mask covered from her nose to her forehead, revealing only her eyes and smirking lips.

Her mother narrowed her eyes.  “Chloe! Are we a horse? How do we walk?” she said in a low voice.

He could see his friend stiffen and collect herself.  She slowed her pace and made her way over. She extended her hand for greeting, as was proper and Adrien responded in kind.  

“Chloe, my deepest well wishes for you,” he said with a warm smile.  “We’ve brought you some fabric and trinkets from the Americas. I hope you’ll enjoy them.”

She looked pleased with the gifts.  “Take me to see them, Adrien.” She held out her fan and Sabrina, the daughter of a low ranked chevalier family and girl always at Chloe’s side, took the fan and stepped back into place behind her, all without a word.  It was always strange to him how Chloe had such a close confident, yet they often seemed so distant.

Adrien offered his arm and Chloe took it at once.  “Mother, Viscountess.” He gave the women a small bow.  “I will take Chloe to see her gifts.”

“We’ll be back to dance in a moment,” Chloe said as she turned him around.  

They paraded through the ballroom and it was clear that Chloe enjoyed the attention she was given, not just as the celebrant, but as a young woman escorted by the young and wealthy Adrien Agreste.  

As they exited into the portrait lined halls, Adrien tried to have a conversation with her.  “Did you have a chance to read the book I sent?” he asked. “What did you think of it?”

“Oh, was that the book by Montesque?”

“ _Montesquieu_ and no, that was the last time.  You said you hadn’t read that one, yet.  I sent you Voltaire last month. Were you able to finish them?  I could hardly put them down once I started.”

Chloe sighed and made a small brushing motion of her hands.  “Adrien, you know I don’t have much leisure time these days. Father’s been so busy that I’m left to accompany Mother everywhere.  Oh, and did you hear about that assembly? Such audacity! Who do they think they are, demanding such of us?”

Adrien bit his lower lip.  He was technically not a noble, but Chloe forgot once more.   “There is some basis to their complaints.”

“They have all they need.  Food. Clothing. Protection from the other countries.  What more could peasants need?”

Adrien opened his mouth to try to argue when Chloe was suddenly jerked back.  She let out a cry as her other arm flew to the side and grabbed on to a small table against the wall.  

“Chloe!” He tried to hold on to her as she fell, but her arm slipped from his.  

The wooden table was knocked back and the flower vase on top of it tilted to the side.  Adrien’s eyes went wide as he reached forward to try to grab it. The smooth, imported ceramic slipped from between his fingers and spilled its contents.  

Chloe screamed.  

He stared down at the young woman seated on the floor, seething as cold water seeped through her layers of clothing and colorful flowers piled around her.  A step behind her, Sabrina was pale, her eyes fixed on her foot on the back hem of Chloe’s dress.

He could see the fear in her eyes as she began to shake.

“What-”

“Your dress seems caught uneven floorboards.”  Adrien swept behind Chloe and gently moved Sabrina out of the way.  He held his finger to his lips in a sign of silence before he bent down to help Chloe to her feet.  “The smallest upturn could be devastating,” he said as he pulled her up.

Chloe struggled to regain her footing and Adrien stomped his foot on the floor, as if forcing the imaginary upturned floorboard down.  

“I will have Father’s men survey this entire hall when this is over!” Chloe said as she brushed the flowers off her.  “I can’t believe they let this happen. I could’ve _died_!”

“Oh dear, you’re all wet.”  Adrien frowned. “Miss Sabrina, perhaps you’d be able to be of aide?”  He gave her a knowing look and Sabrina quickly nodded.

“Yes!  Yes! My lady, let us return to your chambers and change.”  Sabrina rushed to Chloe’s side.

“Go and get dry, Chloe.  I’d hate for you to become ill,” Adrien said, offering her another smile.  

“Don’t go anywhere!  Once I return, I want to see those fabrics and trinkets.”

He gave her a small bow.  “Of course, Chloe.” He waited until they turned the corner down the hall before releasing a tired breath.  He lifted his head and turned around to return to the ballroom and wait for Chloe.

He made it two steps before he saw a flash of red dart across the hall in front of him.  Adrien tilted his head to the side and strode forward, brows knit beneath his black mask.  He peered around the corner and drew his head back as he saw a woman in a red and black dress scurry down a narrow corridor.

Perhaps a guest who was lost? Her dress looked rather worn, dusted with some white powder, but her hair was pulled up and rather stylish. She was young; not wearing a wig.  There was a chance this was her first ball.

Familiar with the palace, Adrien quickened his steps to catch up and redirect her to the ballroom.  Before he could call out, she reached the door at the end of the hall and tried to jiggle the handle open.  She seemed frustrated as she tugged on it again.

“ _Mademoiselle_ , are you lost?”

She whirled around, pressing her back to the door as she lifted a hand to the low cut bodice of her dress.  She was breathing deeply and looked pale beneath a red and black spotted mask.

Once more, he saw a look of fear and this time it was at him.  Adrien stopped a good distance away, unwilling to put her in any more discomfort.  He held his hands up and offered her a kind smile.

“ _Mademoiselle_?” he said, again.  “Do you need directions to the ballroom?”

Her eyes flickered to the side and then back at him.  She took a deep breath and straightened up. “No,” she said.  “I was looking for a powder room.”

She could’ve asked anyone and found it with ease.  “You’re a bit out of the way. There is one not far from the ballroom,” he said.  Adrien took a careful step forward and offered his hand. “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you?”

She didn’t move.  

“I am in no need of an escort, _Monsieur_.  Besides, I am...not allowed to use the powder room for the ladies,” she said.

He chuckled a bit.  “But are you not a lady?”

“I am a baker’s daughter.”

She was a commoner.  Adrien didn’t retract his hand, but identified the powder on her dress as flour.  “Then, are you looking for the kitchens?”

And why was she in a dress and wearing a mask?  Did Chloe demand that even the cooks and servants dress for a ball they weren’t allowed to attend?  He hated to admit it, but it was something she’d do.

“No, _Monsieur_ ,” the young, dark-haired woman said.  “I'll be fine. Please, don’t let me hold you.”

He was suspicious.  No...curious. He glanced back towards the main hall and the sound of music floating out from the ballroom.  He could return to his mother’s side and wait for Chloe, then spend an unknown amount of time listening to her critique her gifts.  Or, he could find out what a baker’s daughter was doing, running around a nobleman’s palace.

Adrien turned back to the young woman gasped.  She was gone.

He looked from side to side.  There were no more corridors crossing paths with the one they were in and the rest of the doors were past him.  Adrien lifted his head. The ceiling was too high....

He looked back at the door she was trying to open and moved closer.  It was slightly ajar and he grasped the handle, pulling it open just a bit to peer inside.  There were stairs and the lanterns against the wall were lit. It must’ve led to the lower levels of the palace, but he’d never been down there.

His hand tightened around the handle.  He looked over his shoulder, back towards the hall he came from the ballroom filled with chattering nobles beyond it.  He turned to the dark stairs and narrowed his eyes.

“Dare to know,” he said under his breath as he took the first step.  

He placed his hand against the stone wall, using it as both a guide and a way to keep his balance as he took careful steps down.  He could hear his footsteps and felt the air grow a bit cooler as he descended.

It felt like some time passed before he reached the bottom and when he did, he looked up, towards the door.  A thin sliver of light could be seen coming from the hall and he wondered if he should’ve closed it.

Shaking his head, he tried to get his eyes to adjust to the dim light and catch sight of the young woman.  He couldn’t see any movement or make out any shadows of a dress. All he could do was listen.

He was silent, holding his breath for a chance to hear a footstep or even just the shuffle of cloth.  

In the distance, he could hear steps and moved towards the sound.  There were several corridors branching out from the chamber he arrived in and he went down the center one, wishing he brought something to defend himself with.  A pistol perhaps or even a sabre. He was quite good with a sabre.

The footsteps grew closer and he sped up to try to intercept the young woman.  Before he could reach the chamber up ahead, he felt someone grab him by the back of of his collar and pull him back, flinging him against the wall.  

Adrien pressed his hands against the stone to push himself away only to feel something pressed against his lower back.  He sucked in his breath as he froze.

“Why are you following me?” His heart leapt to his throat.  

“I-”

“Shh!”  She pressed whatever was against him into his spine a little harder.  “The guards!”

Adrien’s mouth snapped closed.  The footsteps he heard weren’t hers.  They were too fast and belonged to more than one person.  She moved herself against him and he could feel her warm fingers against the back of his neck, where she still grasped his collar.  He could smell the scent of bread. Not the sweet sugar of pastries, but warm, comforting bread.

The two guards walked past the entrance to the tunnel, talking amongst themselves.  He let out a heavy breath as they passed.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, trying to meet her eyes from the side.

“You’re in no place to ask questions, _Monsieur_ ,” she said in a low voice.  He still thought her voice sounded melodic.  “I’ll ask you again, why are you following me?”

“I thought you were lost.”

Something dug into his back once more.  “Did you _really_?”

“I wanted to know where you were going!”

“Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?  A woman in a gown running away from a ball; doesn’t that strike you as the least bit out of place?” Adrien asked.  She seemed to go quiet behind him.

“I’ll let you go back,” she said, her grip loosening.  “You can’t tell anyone what or who you saw here.”

“And who did I see here?” Adrien asked.

“No one.”  She pushed him back against the wall before she released him a stepped back.  Adrien felt the pressure of her weapon lifted from his back and stepped to the side, putting a good distance between them.  

He narrowed his eyes, trying to make her out.  She was smaller than he thought and the soft, gentle curves of her face didn’t really fit with the elaborate style of her hair.  

“Can you at least tell me what you’re doing here?”

“It doesn’t concern you, _noblesse_.”  She said the word with an air of distaste and he felt defensive.

“I’m not a noble.”

“You’re dressed as one.”

“My father is wealthy.”

“And cavorting with the upper classes is how he flaunts it,” she said, spitting out the words.  “Wealthy or noble, you don’t care about the rest of us.”

His eyes widened.  “A revolutionary?” He took a step forward, unable to stop himself.  “Are you a-”

“Don’t get any closer!” She took a step back.  Adrien couldn’t contain his excitement.

Almost everyone he knew and met was of a background that the current government highly favored.  None of them understood things like republics and voting, let alone agreed with them. All the things he enjoyed reading threw dirt on everything they stood for and he could never get a decent discussion from them. Perhaps now he had his chance.

“But I agree with you,” Adrien said.  She drew her head back and looked at him as if he had an ulterior motive.

“Agree?”

“There needs to be a change in our government and a drastic one at that.  We can’t continue the way we are.”

He saw her eyes narrow, still suspicious of him.  “I don’t believe you. Do you honestly expect me to when you’re dressed as such?  Even if you aren’t a noble, as you say, it’s clear you come from wealth, which affords its own privileges riding on the current policies.”

“Then the policies must change and for that happen, control must be split amongst all persons.  After all, _to prevent this abuse, it is necessary from the very nature of things that power should be a check to power_.”

She drew her head back and her eyes went wide.  He could see a flicker of recognition within them as her soft, pink lips parted.  “Montesquieu.”

She knew of him!  Adrien’s heart swelled and he couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face.  

“I told you I agreed with you,” he said.   He raised a hand to point up, towards the upper flowers and the array of nobles ignorant in their wealth above them.   “ _It is dangerous to be right in matters where established men are wrong_.”  

Her shoulders seemed to relax and her eyes softened.  “You’ve read Voltaire.”

“Some, though I’m still working my way through what I can,” Adrien said.  Her eyes were blue, he realized. He could make them out in the dull lantern light.  “If you are here for the benefit of change, _mademoiselle_ , I am more than eager to be of service.”

She hesitated, her eyes moving away from his as she tried to decide whether or not to take his offer.  So concentrated was he on her that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

“You there!”  Adrien’s smile vanished from his face as he jerked his head upwards and looked past the young woman.  She whirled around in front of him and gasped, taking a step back as a pair of guards came up the corridor, shining their light in their eyes.  “What are you doing here?”

Adrien blinked, unsure of how to answer.  He was following the young woman, but like the guards, he didn’t know what she was doing there.  He glanced down at her and saw her face blanched and her eyes wide with fear. Whatever she was doing down there, she wasn’t supposed to be.  

He took a step forward, sliding in front of her and shielding her quaking figure with his body as he offered the guards a small bow of his head.  

“My apologies, good sirs, I am afraid my lady and I are lost.  We seemed to have wandered away from the celebration,” he said, giving them his most charming, trust worthy smile as he carried himself in the aristocratic manner his mother taught him.

He hoped the guards wouldn’t question a noble-looking man.  

They exchanged uncertain looks and then looked back at him with a slight glare.  “Our apologies, my lord, but there is area is well guarded. It isn’t easy to accidentally slip into.”

“Into the basement?” Adrien raised a brow.  He saw one guard’s hand hovering over the hilt of a sword.

“Into the prison,” the guard said.  “Either you come with us back to the upper level or you’ll be locked up.”

Adrien drew his head back.  He looked towards the young woman he was with and saw her looking away, guilty.  His lips tightened into a line.

“A prison?” he said in a low voice, turning back to the guards.  “Who is imprisoned here?”

“That’s not for you to know.  Come with us.” They moved forward and Adrien stepped back, still shielding her from the other men.  

“I have a right to know who is imprisoned here.  I know the owners of this palace. Are they aware-”

“The Vicomte is well aware of the prisoners here!  And you’re going to be one of them.”

“You both are,” the other guard said.  His hand left his word and he reached behind Adrien for the young woman.  

“I’m not going anywhere!” She stepped back, avoiding the guard reaching for her arm.  Adrien grabbed the guard’s wrist and pushed him back.

“You heard her, she’s not going anywhere with you.  We’ll leave,” he said. He prepared to turn them around only to hear the familiar sound of a sword being drawn.  He frowned. “So be it.”

“Don’t, they’re armed.”  Her small hand grasped his coat and pulled him back as she whispered.  “We can come in another way.”

“They’re not going to let us come in another way,” he said, under his breath.  “They’re not going to let us _leave_.”

“But they have _swords_.”

“Don’t you have any weapons?” he asked.  “What were you poking me with?”

He could’ve sworn her face flushed.  She passed him something from her hand and he lifted it up.  His face paled. It was a wooden spoon. She stopped him with a wooden spoon. He couldn't believe it.

A laugh escaped him as he held up the object, shaking his head.  

“It’s all I have!” she said.  

“So it is,” Adrien chuckled.  He took a step back and adjusted his footing and stance.  He held the wooden spoon up. “Well, sirs, this will have to do.”

“Have you lost your mind?” One of the guards looked at him as if he were insane.  The other shook his head and lifted his sword.

“We don’t have time for this!  Get the cuffs ready!” He moved forward and Adrien stepped to the side with ease, using the wooden spoon to redirect the blade before closing the distance between him and the guard, and elbowing him in the face.

The second guard jumped back and scrambled for his own sword.  

“You’re too slow!” Adrien lifted the first guard’s procured sword and held the basket hilt up.  It was the last thing the second guard saw before he collapsed on the floor, his nose and face pushed inwards by a sword.  Adrien let out a little hiss and shook his wrist out.  He should've aimed better.

“Are you all right?” Small, rough hands were around his, examining them for any sort of swelling.  Adrien found himself still as her slender fingers moved over his hand.

“I am,” he said.  “Thank you.”

She lifted her head and met his eyes, a look of disbelief in them.  “Why did you do that?”

“Why are you sneaking into a prison?” Adrien asked.  She tensed. “They weren’t going to let us go and I bought us some time.  You can at least tell me what a baker’s daughter is doing in the bowels of a palatial prison.”  

He could tell she knew he had a point.  She lowered her hands and looked down the hall.  “My friends are here.”

“You friends?”

She looked back at him.  “They were arrested for spreading news about the assembly and printing papers with essays on the case against the monarchy.”

Adrien furrowed his brows.  “Are they not allowed to?”

She shook her head, her thick, black curls flying around her face.  “We both know what is coming. We are moving towards a revolution and information on its side is dangerous to those in power.  Local governments have been cracking down on print shops for spreading what they deem inappropriate.”

“And your friends were?”

“They were taken from their home a few nights ago.”  

“To here?  You’re sure?” Adrian asked.  She nodded, looking certain.

“The men who took them away were Vicomte Bourgeois’ men.  I recognize them.”

He gave her a questioning look.  “How? And how did a baker’s daughter even get this far into the palace?”

“My father made cakes and pastries for the Vicomte’s daughter-”  Her mouth snapped closed and a look of panic filled her face. She said too much.  

Adrien placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward.  “I swear to you, I won’t tell anyone,” he said. A gave her a comforting smile.  “I don’t even know your name.”

“My name?” she said.  Their faces were close and he could feel her warm breath.  “It’s-”

“ _Liberté_.” Adrien rested a finger on her lips.  “That’s all I need to know.”

He watched her rosy cheeks grow even pinker and as he slid his finger away.  She blushed and turned her head to the side. “I...I need to find my friends,” she said.  She took a step back and turned away from him, towards the corridor.

“Then, let’s go.”  Adrien picked up the discarded lantern the guards were using and held it out to her.  

She glanced from him to the lantern and lifted her hand to take it from his.  Her warm fingers brushed his. “You don’t have to come,” she said.

He shook his head.  “If they were imprisoned unjustly, then I must.”  

She seemed to weigh his words, before nodding and proceeding forward.  “Tonight was the soonest I could make it. There is no other time when everyone is preoccupied and I couldn’t wait too long.”

“Why is that?” Adrien asked as he followed behind her.  

“Alya is pregnant,” she said in a low voice.  “She’s due any day.”

Adrien felt his skin curdle.  “They threw a pregnant woman in prison?” he asked, disgusted at the thought.  “How can they do such a thing?”

“They’ve done worse and will continue to do so.”  

A wave of determination washed over him.  “Tell me where to go,” he said as he moved in front of her.  “I have a sword and will deal with any guards if need be.”

She gave him a nod and he felt her grasp the tail end of his coat.  “They should be down this corridor from what information I’ve gathered.  I don’t know which cell.”

“Then we’ll check every single one.”

They continued down the central corridor, careful of their footsteps and pausing when they thought they heard those of others.  

“How do you know Montesquieu and Voltaire?” she asked.

“One of my tutors let me read Montesquieu.  I was interested in the ideas presented and he suggested Voltaire and Hume.  I began to search out what I could find on similar subject matter,” Adrien said.  “The more I read and observed around me, outside the walls of my father’s house, the more I felt change was necessary.

“It’s true that we’re wealthy, but there is still a class difference even for us.  That’s a privilege we can never have; what more other children of commoners without the luxuries I’m afforded?  My own father almost couldn’t marry the love of his life because of class differences. She’s the only daughter of a duke and when she expressed interest in marrying a ‘peasant’, even one with more wealth than her father, she was sent to a convent.”

“A convent...?  Did she flee?” the young woman asked.

“She did.” Adrien smiled at the thought. “She risked her life to be with my father.  Through her, I have noble blood, but not by birthright. Still, neither should matter.” He glanced back at her.  “I may have an advantage over my father, as in this case, I’m just like you.”

She blushed once more, diverting her eyes as Adrien bit his lips to keep from chuckling.

“I believe you are luckier than me, _Monsieur._  A commoner you may be, but at least you will not starve.”

“Is that why you’re on the side of the revolutionists?”

“I’m on the side of the people.  I’ve had enough to seeing my village decimated by taxes.  The clergy and the nobles take everything and we starve in the countryside.  We have no control of our lives. What purpose do we have with the lives God has given us if we can do nothing with them, but suffer?”

Adrien closed his eyes for just a moment.  He wished for this sort of conversation for so long.  He wished for someone to understand why change was necessary.

“I agree with you.  France is need of a drastic change,” he said.  “Have you heard of what happened in the British colonies in the new world?  They rebelled and are trying to start a government with representation for the people.  Not just the wealthy or the elite, but for the _people_.  I believe we can do that here, in France.  Do the French people not deserve it? Do we not deserve rights and the freedom to live regardless of the luck of birth?”

He asked his questions out loud, forgetting for a moment that they were searching a prison and allowing his pent up excitement to get the best of him.  He drew his head down, embarrassed that he may have just given them away because of his thoughts.

“You should write.”  

He looked over his shoulder and met her beautiful, clear blue eyes.  For a moment, he was taken aback. “Pardon?”

She moved closer, her body against his arm as she clutched his coat.  “You should _write_.  You have a way with words and clearly an education to back them.  You could get our dreams out to the masses and give our people hope for something better than a life of poverty and suffering and death.  A revolution needs people from all sides; if there are, it means whatever we’re fighting for may just be good for everyone.”

Adrien stood in place, entranced by the passion in her words and the glint of hope in her eyes.  “Do you think so? I’m just a man. I’ve never written such essays before.”

Her pink tongue darted out and moistened her lips as her eyes lowered.  “I think you should try. Don’t you believe in it?”

“I do.”  Her eyes began to close and he lowered his head.

Her warm breath brushed against his lips.  “Then perhaps you should do it.”

“Who are you two?” A loud voice filled corridor and they turned in the direction of the noise.  A guard was calling for another down the corridor he was coming from and Adrien grabbed the young woman’s hand.  She jumped and dropped their lantern.

“Are we close to where your friends are?” Adrien asked, refusing to look over his shoulder to see if the guards were chasing them.  He could hear her footsteps following his, stumbling a few times.

“They can’t be far away now,” she said.  “We’ve come so far already; they must be near!”  

“Do you know how to get us back to the ground floor once we find them?” he asked, slowing his pace as he heard her struggling to keep up in heels and corset.  

“Yes, the doors wooden are ornate so as to match with the doors in the upper halls lead there,” she said.  He looked around and passed by a set of stairs. He made a mental note of it a he glanced up and saw a large wooden door; it must’ve led inside the palace.

“Good, I can get us out,” he said.  “I may even be able to commandeer a wagon if your pregnant friend can’t walk.”

He caught sight of a divot against the wall; likely a sealed cell.  He pressed himself back against it, gathering the young woman in his arms and pulling her as far back as he could to keep her from sticking out.  

She buried her head against his shoulder and he could smell the scent of warm bread in her hair.  

As they heard the guards passing, he shut his eyes, as if willing he and the young woman to disappear into the drab stone walls.  The footsteps stormed past them and he peeked. He let out a heavy breath and looked down at the young woman still in his arms.

His face flooded with color as he released her and apologized.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...are you all right?” he asked, trying to keep his voice quiet.  “I didn’t hurt you, did it?”

“No, no....” she said, pulling away, keeping her eyes diverted.  “I was just...surprised. And didn’t want to be seen, yes. That’s it!  I didn’t want the guards to see me!”

He stared at her a bit longer taking in her flushed face and awkward shyness.  He felt himself shift, mirroring her awkwardness. “That’s true. We’re not done yet, are we?”

Before she could answer, she turned around, jerking her head to one side and craning her neck.  She heard something and Adrien found himself holding his breath.

A flash of joy filled her eyes.  “That’s Alya!” she said.

She gathered her skirts and began rushing towards the end of the hall.  Adrien went after her. “Wait! I should check for guards!”

He could hear a woman talking further down the hall.  She sounded angry.

“Alya!” the young woman in the red and black dress seemed to forget about him as she followed the sound of her friend’s voice.

“Wait!  Don’t come here!” a man’s voice shouted.  

It was too late.  They emerged into another chamber, surrounded on all sides by small, empty cells and iron bars.  The young woman skidded to a stop, her face falling as two guards stood between them and a man and woman inside a cell.  

“What are you doing here?” A woman with brown skin in an drab orange dress grabbed the bars in front of her and looked across at the young woman with him, looking horrified.  

“I couldn’t leave you here!”

Adrien saw the protruding stomach on the woman and frowned.  She really did look as if she were going to give birth at any moment and they would dare imprison her?  He gripped the sword at his side and moved in front of the guards.

“Have you no shame?  Imprisoning a pregnant woman?”

“We had orders.”

“Are you unable to think for yourselves and comprehend when an order is wrong?” Adrien said, scowling.  "She is a pregnant woman!”

He moved forward, cutting through the two guards with ease and leaving them unconscious on the stone floor.  He turned back to Marinette and found her missing from where she was behind him.

Adrien looked around and saw her kneeling in front of the cell, trying to pick the lock.  

“Are you sure you know how to do that?” the man in the cell asked.

“I can do it, Nino.  I was able to open the door to get down here,” she said.  “Just give me a moment.”

The woman on the other side of the cell, Alya, looked towards Adrien.  She pointed to the guards and he looked down. Hanging on the belt was a loop of keys.  He chuckled to himself as he plucked it from the guard and walked to the cell door.

“ _Liberté_ ,” he said as he dangled the iron keys in front of her.  The two in the cell stifled their laughter as she turned red.  She snatched it from his hands.

“Just check to see if anyone is coming,” she said, grumbling.  

He held back his laugh and moved towards the entrance of the chamber.

“So...where did you find him?” Alya asked, sounding amused.

“He followed me here from upstairs,” she said, fiddling with one key after another to try to open the door.  “He insisted on helping.” A clank was heard and her face lit up as she opened the cell. “Got it!”

“Good job,” Alya said as she waddled out, holding her belly.  She glanced at Adrien and then back at her friend as she was caught in a tight embrace. “ _Very_ good job.”

“You can discuss this later,” the man said, coming up behind her.  “How do we get out?”

The young woman looked towards Adrien.  He pointed up. “There are stairs we passed.  I don’t know where it leads, but I’ll get you out.”

They followed him down the corridor, trying to be as quiet as possible.  He led them to some stairs they passed while running, and ascended first to check to the door.  He was able to open it and peeked outside.

From the ornate gallery beyond the hall the door led to, they were in the southern wing.  He counted them lucky; it was only a short walk to the stables from there.

He rushed down the stairs and escorted them up, stopping once they reached the top.  He could hear music coming from deeper within the palace; guards would be patrolling.  

“Now what?” the young woman asked behind him as she leaned forward, looking out into the hall.

He straightened up, suddenly aware of how close they were.  He glanced out the hall and then back them. “May I escort you outside, my lady?” he asked, offering his arm.  

She looked surprised and looked back at Alya and Nino, whom he presumed was Alya’s husband from how he was holding her.  Alya gave her a nod and she lifted her arm. She seemed uncertain of how to rest it on his and Adrien moved her against him.  

“ _Madam_ Alya and _Monseuir_...?”

“Nino Lahiff, but Nino is fine,” he said.  “No need for formalities here.”

Adrien gave him a small nod.  “Nino, then. If you don’t mind, please follow behind us.  There is sitting room here that will have some clothes we can use to disguise you.”

“How do you know this?” Alya asked, narrowing her eyes.  

Adrien smiled weakly.  “I know the family.” He pushed open the door before Alya could ask any more questions and led the young woman in red out with him.  “Back straight, shoulders down,” he said in a low voice as she stumbled beside him.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Sneaking around?” he asked.  He caught her small glare.

“Sneaking around on a man’s arm.”

“Ah...then it’s a pleasure to be your first, _mademoiselle_.”  She kept a straight face, but could see her blush. He held back a smile and walked along the corridor as if he belonged there.  

He spotted the Viscountess’ sitting room and walked in, bringing the other three with him.  Once inside, he closed the door behind Alya and Nino. He pushed a stuffed, gilded chair forward and motioned for Alya to sit and rest as he ran to a wardrobe.  

“If you know the family,” Nino said.  “Why are you helping us?”

“Because they’ll never realize something is missing,” Adrien said, rushing back with an armload of elegant, expensive cloaks.  “And that’s the problem isn’t it? So much opulence and wealth and they don’t understand what’s happening in the world around them; how those who don’t have all of this are suffering.”

He handed Nino a dark cloak and held out an arm of different colored ones to Alya.  She looked pleased and amused that he was letting her pick, even at such a time. She took a deep orange velvet one before he turned to the young woman in red.

“You know what we did, don’t you?” Alya asked as Nino helped secure the fancy cloak around her.

“I know indeed,” Adrien said as he offered the young woman a soft pink cloak with an embroidered white trim.  “And I know that it’s needed.”

She accepted it and swung it around her shoulders to put it on.  

“What does a noble know of what the people need?” Alya asked, still eyeing him.  Whether she was still genuinely curious or simply testing him, Adrien wasn’t sure, but he was happy to explain himself.

“I may be of wealth, I as I told you friend, but I’m not a noble.  I only want to do what’s right,” Adrien said. He motioned to her stomach.  “Your child should be born into freedom, not a prison cell. I’ll see to that.”  

He moved back to the door and opened it to peek out.  He looked back at them and waved for them to follow. Once more he offered his arm to the young woman and she accepted.  

“Where do we go now?” Nino asked.

“The stables aren’t far from here. We need to get a wagon.”

“A wagon?” Nino raised a brow.  “We just need to get out of the estate.  By foot is fine.”

Adrien looked back at them.  “Not when she’s like that,” he said, motioning to Alya.  

“Oh...I like the way he thinks,” she said, grinning.  

Adrien felt the corners of his lips also raising to match her grin.  “Wait until you read my essays.” His eyes met the young woman’s for just a moment.  She looked surprised, but Adrien gave her a small squeeze on her arm. “Back straight, _Liberté_.  We are almost there.”  

Once move, they trapazed through the hall with Adrien leading them. No one seemed to give them a second glance, even as they stepped out and walked towards the stables.  Adrien paid off a stable boy and got him to prepare a simple hay wagon with an old horse.

As it was brought forward, he handed the reins to Nino.

“All the money in the world and you’re still helping us,” Nino said as he stood in front of Adrien.  

“The world is changing and we need to change as well.  Your child should have as much freedom in the world as any wealthy or noble child,” Adrien said.  “Equality is starting to be understood by the masses and is in movement. There is no stopping it now and I have every intention of pushing it forward.”  

Nino seemed to let his words sink in for just a moment before extending his hand.  “Ideals are far more difficult to kill than any man, my friend. Spread these ideals for all of France.”  

Adrien grasped his hand and shook it, tight.  

“Help me on the wagon!” Alya said from the back.  They quickly rushed back to aid her, careful of her stomach.  

Once she was situated, Nino headed to the front.  He glanced back at Adrien. “If we make it, you should be our child’s Godfather.”

Adrien jerked his head back, caught by surprise.  “Me?” he asked. They just met. Nino grinned and climbed on to the wagon.

“After all, you let them be born free.”  

Adrien looked towards Alya and saw her nod, her hand resting over her stomach.  He gave them respectful bow of his head. “It would be an honor.”

“Did you see them?” He whirled around as he heard voices.  

“The guards are coming,” he said.  He reached for the young woman still standing beside him and moved her to the wagon.  “You must go.”

“I never got your name,” she said as he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the wagon with ease.  

He heard the commotion coming and turned to her.  “Adrien Agreste.”

“Hurry, we must go!” Alya said, holding on to the young woman’s sleeve.  The masked woman looked torn.

“Check the stables!”  They heard a guard’s voice shouting.  

Adrien looked back and released the young woman.  He stepped away and and felt his mask lifted off his face.  As he looked up, he met those beautiful blue eyes once more; her own mask dropped into the wagon.

As if she didn’t take his breath away with her eyes, her passion, and her bravery...she had to be more than beautiful, too.  Or perhaps it was her passion and bravery that made her beautiful to him.

“Thank you.” Her voice was breathless and he closed his eyes.  Her warm lips sealed over his for just a moment before she pulled away.  He remained rooted in his spot, his eyes wide as he felt his heart race. “I hope to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”  

The wagon jerked forward and he watched her move towards Alya.  She lifted a hand.

“Good-bye,” she seemed to mouth.  

Adrien watched them fade into the darkness, no longer paying attention to the sounds of guards.  He could only see her.

“Good-bye, _Liberté.”_

 

* * *

 

_August 1795_

 

He didn’t recall falling asleep.  Was he that tired? Perhaps it was his hunger?  Or perhaps, he just passed out knowing his fate was sealed.  

The wagon was still moving and he cringed as he opened his eyes.  The light was too bright.

Adrien tensed.  He sat up, pushing himself back against the side of the wagon as he looked from side to side.  He glanced down and saw the blindfold resting over his chest, having loosened while he was asleep. Over the top sides of the wagon, he could see the greenery of the countryside.

Across from him, a dark-skinned man with glasses was slumped forward, also asleep.  Adrien furrowed his brows; the man wasn’t dressed as a soldier. He seemed a regular commoner.  Was he a prisoner, too?

A glance at the man’s wrists and ankles confirmed otherwise.  No chains or cuffs. He wasn’t bound at all. Adrien looked towards the front of the wagon and saw the back of someone’s head.  A large, tall man with short hair and pale skin was driving the wagon. Adrien didn’t recognize them.

As he tried to study the man asleep across from him, the wagon hit a rather large rock and they were thrown up.  The man was jerked awake and began sputtering.

“Kim!  Be careful!  This is the only wagon we have!” the man said, glaring at the back of the driver’s head.

“Sorry, Nino.  The road’s uneven; there isn’t much I can do.”

“Nino?” Adrien said the name out loud.  He recognized it and leaned forward. Dark gold eyes met his from behind glasses and Adrien inhaled sharply.  “Nino Lahiffe?”

Nino grinned.  “Nice to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”  

“What....”  He almost couldn’t breathe.  What was Nino doing there? He heard Nino was lost in a skirmish two years before.  He heard the village they lived in was overtaken by royal forces and all revolutionists killed.

“You of all people should know how strong the dream of liberty is,” Nino said, as if knowing what he was thinking.  “Most of us got out before the monarchists came.”

Adrien closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath, relieved.  He opened his mouth to ask if _she_ had made it out, but a sudden wave of fear gripped him.  As much as he wanted to know, there was a good chance she did not and he couldn’t bring himself to have such a scenario confirmed.  

He swallowed hard and took another deep breath.  “You aren’t taking me to Madame Guillotine, are you?”

“No.”

“Where are we going?”

“Nice.”

“And how far are we from Nice?”

“Several days.  We’re a day and a half outside of Paris.  You slept for quite a while, my friend,” Nino said.  “Our first stop is coming up. A friend of ours will be able to remove your shackles and we’ll switch horses for another leg.”

Adrien nodded.  He opened his eyes and looked across.  “Why are you saving me?”

The corner of Nino’s lip curled upwards.  “You saved us once. It is the least we could do to save you now that we had the chance.”  

A small, thankful smile reached Adrien’s face.  “It was by chance that I saved you.”

“And it was by chance that we overheard someone say you were imprisoned unfairly,” Nino said.  He leaned forward. “Besides my friend, wouldn’t you like to meet your Godson?”

Adrien felt his eyes begin to water, overwhelmed with relief.  “She delivered safely?”

Nino nodded.  “In a wagon very much like this,” he said with a chuckle.  

“And...they’re both safe now?” He was pushing his luck asking, but Nino nodded once more.  

“Yes, though nothing stopped Alya from continuing sending out papers and pamphlets.  She often cited much of your work. She’ll be elated when she sees you.”

Adrien nodded.  Alya was safe. That was good.  At the very least, he could take comfort in that.  

“My eyes are still sensitive from the light,” Adrien said.  “I was kept blindfolded since capture, as I was often moved around.”

Nino was already acrossing the wagon to lift the blindfold back over Adrien’s eyes.  “Rest easy, my friend. At least for now, we are safe.”

For the first time in years, Adrien was able to lower his defenses and take a moment to breathe.  There was little else to do on the several day long trek to the southeast and he spent time talking about the Revolution and various governments and political theories as they went along.  

They exchanged stories of what happened after that fateful night they first met and he helped free Nino and Alya from the prison at the Bourgeois palace.  Still, he was careful not to mention the other woman present that night, for fear that Nino would tell him that she lost her life too early.

It was a blow Adrien couldn’t take after all he had been through.  So many terror filled days and nights were only soothed by the thought of her and her passion to bring equality to their country.  If she, a clumsy baker’s daughter from a small village, could risk her life for her friends to bring France freedom, then he could, as well.

As unlikely as it was, he hoped that they would one day be reunited and he could thank her for fanning the fire in him.  Then, perhaps, when they were at peace, he could finally get to know the _woman_ who was _Liberté_ **.**

Along the way, Adrien met other revolutionaries who aided them by giving them a little food or trading the horses or fresh ones so they could move on faster.  They couldn’t stay in one place for too long, for fear that someone would recognize Adrien. He was, after all, still rather infamous for his writings and his parentage.  To solve this, Adrien kept his blindfold on, pretending to be blind to and from the wagon.

It was difficult to identify him in his clothes anyway, but Kim joked that his face would give them away.

Their friend, Alix, was the daughter of a scholar who was killed for questioning the monarchy early on.  She was able to undo his shackles.

The freedom was almost foreign to Adrien.  His muscles had been held in place for so long, moving his arms in the full degree he was able to before prison was difficult.  Every time they stopped, he would try to stretch them a bit further, to the point of feeling pain in an effort to regain flexibility.  

“When we get to Nice, you’ll stay at a friend’s home,” Nino said.  “I’m afraid the small room Alya and I are in doesn’t have enough room.”

“Is your friend a revolutionary, as well?”

“Yes, both she and her husband were.”  

Adrien tilted his head to the side.  “Were?”

“She is a widow,” Nino said, his voice lowered.  “They were both from our village and both were involved.  They were very passionate about the liberty of France.” He released a heavy breath and looked down.  “Luka was shot during a skirmish. They were married for two weeks.”

Adrien felt his heart ache for the poor couple.  He knew that many young, hopeful people died and it was tragic.  They were the future of France and yet, they were unable to see it.  And for a couple to be broken apart so soon after being brought together, it was perhaps more than tragic.

The sounds of the shore began to fill the air and a cool breeze swept over them.  Adrien peered out from the wagon and could see the village up ahead. The sun was setting and the water in the distance almost glowed.  It was welcoming.

“Okay, my friend,” Nino said.  “I’m afraid it’s time.”

Adrien lifted the worn, sweaty piece of cloth resting on his chest and brought it back to his eyes.  He adjusted the blindfold and felt around for a wooden stick they picked up to help keep him from running into things.

Through the cloth, he could see the light fading and it was well into nightfall by the time they stopped.  Nino jumped out first, helping Adrien out as someone called from the side.

“Is that him?” It was a woman’s voice.  “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Nino seemed to sigh, tired.  

“He looks so thin.”

“He was in _prison,_ Alya.”

“Get him inside.  The bath is warm and I laid some clothes out,” another woman’s voice said.  Was she the widow?

“He smells funny.”  It was a small, child’s voice and Adrien tried not to laugh.  

“He is your _parrain_ ,” Alya said with a hint of scolding.  “Don’t mind him now. He’ll look _much_ better cleaned up.”  

“Will he smell better, too?”

“Nat!”  

“I’ll smell better, too,” Adrien said as he was escorted through a threshold, grinning.  His grin faltered as he inhaled a warm scent. He paused for just a moment to take another breath.  

Bread.  Fresh baked bread.  

He could feel his body relaxing.

“The food’s ready, just start,” a woman beside him said to the others as she led him to a back room.  “Don’t worry, there’s enough for you. Alya will make sure of it. I baked fresh bread and was able to get some meat for a stew.”

He smiled.  “That sounds delicious.”

She laughed and he felt his heartbeat quicken.  It was high and melodic.

“I’m sure anything is more delicious than what you ate in prison,” she said.  She took his arm and told him to duck as she led him into the room. “I’ll leave you to bathe.  Should you need anything, call for me.”

Adrien lifted his hands to his blindfold as he smiled, ready to finally get clean after God only knew how long.  “And what should I call y....”

His voiced died in his throat as the cloth slipped from his eyes.  

Her rose colored lips were brought up into a smile as bright, blue eyes met his green ones in the candle light.  Long, dark hair was braided over her shoulder as the scent of fresh, warm bread wafted around her. He could barely hear his own voice.

“ _Liberté....”_

A warm hand cupped the side of his face as her expression softened.  Her eyes seemed to mist over as she studied his taunt, dirt-caked face.  

“Marinette,” she said.  “It’s good to see you again, Adrien.”  

 

* * *

 

**THE END**


End file.
